


Pasta Angel

by PipGraham



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coronavirus Quarantine, Covid-19 Related, Hipster Bucky Barnes, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23157391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipGraham/pseuds/PipGraham
Summary: When the Coronavirus has NYC in a panic, Steve isn't about to risk any more damage to his already messed-up lungs to join the hoarders in the supermarkets. Luckily for him, there are still some community-minded folks around, enter Bucky Barnes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 179





	Pasta Angel

No matter how much Steve tried to distract himself, to do something productive, to put down his damn phone and stop circling the same four social media apps and news sites, he just couldn’t do it.

That damn virus was all he could think about, and he couldn’t shake the fear that he might have been infected.

With his asthma and general bad health, he was about as vulnerable as the elderly population that was told to stay inside and away from any outside contact.

The buffoon in chief was doing absolutely nothing to get the situation under control and Steve knew the hospitals were already at capacity. If he got sick, there’d be nowhere for him to go. He lived alone in his tiny studio apartment. Would anyone even find him if he died from this?

The worst thing was that he hadn’t managed to get any shopping in before the hoarders had raided the aisles of all the local supermarkets, and there was no way he was getting on the New York subway with a pandemic sweeping the city.

He had less than half a roll of toilet paper left, and his kitchen cupboards were almost completely empty. Steve’s latest payment for a commission he’d done had only come in this morning, and by now he was too scared to go outside. He could hear people coughing in the apartment under his when the windows were closed, when they were open, he could hear the bustle outside of a crowd of people trying to get some last minute shopping in before they were all quarantined and instructed to not leave their homes.

He knew he was screwed. Things would only get worse for him from here.

He looked at his empty canvases, and then at his empty inbox. It wasn’t like he was going to need his canvases for commissions right now, was it?

Five minutes later, he had secured a canvas on two hooks and hung it out of the window.

“ **Severe Asthma – Can’t Shop**

 **No TP, No Food – Please help** ”, was written on it, with his phone number right underneath. He doubted anyone would help him, but he had to try. He could only go so long without food, Steve’s one big luck was that he had plenty of all his meds and wouldn’t have to go out to get refills.

He was really scared of this virus. He had a severe bout of flu earlier this winter and he didn’t know how to get through another severe infection that affected his chest.

Sighing, he got back into bed and pulled up YouTube to distract himself with. He was almost asleep when his phone beeped. It was probably an email from another company that had his address, letting him know what they were doing to keep their customers safe.

He was surprised to see a text message.

‘Hey, my name is Bucky. I live in the building across from yours. I got some TP, and food to spare. I can bring it to your door if you buzz me in.’

That had to be a joke. No one was that nice in NYC. Steve stared at the message for a moment.

‘Are you actually serious?’ He wrote back, watching the speech bubble start and stop producing little dots for a few seconds before an image arrive instead.

It was a picture of 4 toilet paper rolls, two large packages of pasta and jars of sauces, flour, yeast and butter, plus a box of cereal and a gallon of milk. A message came in a minute later.

‘If you’ve got a lung condition you definitely need this more than me, stranger.’

‘It’s Steve. And you’d be saving my ass!’ Steve replied, his heart pounding. He could stretch that amount of food for a long while.

‘Alright, Steve. Whenever you’re ready, I can come over, just need you to buzz me into the building and tell me which door to knock on. I’ve been outside and not sure if contagious, so I suggest I just leave it there and you pick it up when I’m gone.’ Came Bucky’s response a few seconds later.

‘You’re a hero, you know that?’ Steve asked. ‘You sure you’ll be alright without this?’

‘I’ll be fine, I’m healthy, I’m not at risk. This isn’t from hoarding btw. I had this stuff in my cupboard. Not the milk, the milk’s fresh from today.’ Steve chuckled, sending back a laughing smiley face. ‘I’m glad. I’ll pay you for it if you don’t extort me.’

‘Nah man, it’s yours. I ain’t profiting from people being assholes out there.’

‘You’re amazing, thank you!! Seriously!’ Steve sighed, texting Bucky his apartment number so he could ring and maybe bring the groceries for real. Steve would believe it when he saw it, and in the meantime, he’d get ready to call the police in case the guy was some sort of psycho and tried to break in. He didn’t think so though. Bucky seemed nice, really really nice.

‘Be right there.’ Bucky responded and Steve sat up in bed, waiting anxiously.

It wasn’t even five minutes later that his buzzer rang. Steve jumped, rushing to answer it.

“Who is it?” He asked, heart pounding. Was some guy from across the street seriously coming to solve all his problems for him?

“It’s Bucky? Is this Steve?” Came the tinny voice over the receiver.

“Yeah, hi. Apartment 32.” Steve repeated. “Seriously thank you!”

He buzzed Bucky in, heart pounding as he looked through the peek hole in door to see what his good Samaritan looked like. Nothing could have prepared him for a freaking supermodel hipster with a manbun ascending to his studio on the fourth floor. He was carrying a big bag with a happy smile on his face, walking up to the door and knocking on it.

“Hey, it’s Bucky.” He called, and Steve could tell that the climb up to the fourth floor landing had winded him a little. “I’m gonna leave this here for you, okay?”

“That would be awesome, thank you, Bucky, seriously!” Steve called back.

“Oh awesome, you’re here, I wanted to make sure you were there to get it fast. People are weird out there right now.” Bucky said, smiling up at the peek hole. “You tell me if anyone gives you any trouble or if you run out of stuff and can’t go out, okay?”

“Are you an angel?” Steve asked, only half joking, but it made Bucky laugh. Man, that smile. Steve wanted to draw him.

“Take care of yourself, Steve, don’t go outside. I mean it, text me.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.” Steve told him, sighing softly as Bucky descended down the stairs again, leaving the groceries outside of Steve’s door. He opened the door a minute later, pulling the bag inside. He inspected each and every package. Nothing had been opened or otherwise tempered with. Steve sorted it all into his kitchen cupboards before thoroughly washing his hands, humming ‘I believe in a thing called love’ for exactly the handwashing length his Tumblr dash had recommended to him for that song.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought fluff might do us some good in this bitch of a world. Please leave me a comment or kudos if you liked this :)


End file.
